


Nowhere

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M, POV First Person, Rituals, Second Chances, Sex Magic, Written before Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-05
Updated: 2005-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-06 12:52:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is at its height, but Draco Malfoy has started to feel the weight of his decisions. He sees a way to challenge them, and it involves one Ginny Weasley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://violet-quill.livejournal.com/profile)[**violet_quill**](http://violet-quill.livejournal.com/)'s Women of HP challenge. One part inspired by the very not-worksafe and very pretty [pic](http://www.livejournal.com/users/vivier/31168.html?#cutid1) by [](http://vivier.livejournal.com/profile)[**vivier**](http://vivier.livejournal.com/).

_The silence is what kills me  
I need someone here to help me  
But you don't know how to listen  
And let me make my decision_

I sit here locked inside my head  
Remembering everything you've said  
The silence gets us nowhere,  
Gets us nowhere way too fast.  
"Nowhere" by Staind

 

 

The thing about being the youngest in a family of seven is that no one ever sees you as a grown up. You never become an adult, especially not when you're the baby girl in a family full of loud and rowdy boys. You learn to talk over them, around them, through them. But you never quite escape your fate. You will always be the youngest of the seven, you will always be the baby, and that's the tragedy of it.

I thought maybe I would be taken seriously this year. I'm now a seventh year, I'm almost done with Hogwarts. But of course, Mum and Dad insisted that I stay locked up tight in the castle as the war rages on. Ron and Hermione get to go with Harry; all of the ones that graduated got to go and fight. A lot of the seventh years now decided not to bother with the NEWT's, so the castle is much emptier now than it should have been. I'm one of the few seventh years left in Gryffindor Tower, and it's awfully lonely up in the girls' dorm. I've taken to writing in a diary again, even though I always promised myself I wouldn't. But if there's no one to talk to, why shouldn't I take down my thoughts? This diary doesn't talk back to me, so at least in that respect I know I'm safe. Otherwise, I might not have made the attempt at all. I'm not stupid, just so terribly lonely.

Let me begin again. I think I have more than enough time now to write, I might as well tell the tale properly.

I think it all began a few months ago. There was that feeling of dread hanging over the castle. The upper forms were spread pretty thin, and the lower forms were too frightened. They huddled together during classes, between classes, after classes. I've always felt a little different from everyone else, so at first I didn't really notice. I didn't feel the need to cling to someone else for comfort. I've grown used to being by myself with my worries. I've had to be strong, to show the good face and not let anyone worry. I know I've worried my family terribly, and I know a lot of it has to do with their feelings that they couldn't protect me. I spent a summer in St. Mungo's, and by the end of it I really only learned to look unafraid. It became easier to tell them what they wanted to hear, rather than the truth. If my memories could be blurred into dreams, they would feel easier in letting me go home. I felt safer in my own bedroom than in the cold sterile wards, the white tiles making screams echo down the halls. I could hear them, the lost souls in the possession ward. Oh, they didn't call it that. Of course not. That's only my name for it. They would speak in tongues, they would stare and see something that wasn't there. They didn't speak the same, they didn't act the same. I hadn't fully been possessed, not in the same way these other lost souls were. It was easier to pretend that everything was the same.

I still get nightmares. I hear his voice in my ears, soft and silky, still seductive even though I know better. I think it's why I went after Michael and Dean. They were so different, their voices stronger and straight. They didn't sound the same, they didn't have the same hold over me. Their voices never crept into my dreams. Sometimes they didn't even have my full attention, but I could never tell them that. I'm not cruel.

The nightmares had begun after winter hols. I would hear the voice calling to me from a distance, asking me to open the door. I would get up, I would put on a wrapper and I would glide down the stairs to the common room. I would find a knife hidden behind the portrait on the mantelpiece, I would step out of the dorm. I would stand at the top of the stair, then slash at the Fat Lady's portrait. She would wake, screaming before I cut her throat. Blood colored paint would tumble down from the wound, spilling over the edge of the frame. I would look into those dead, flat eyes before turning and then walking down the Tower stairs. I would head down to the Great Hall, my feet silent upon the stones. The cold would creep up my legs, from my toes up through my ankles. I would feel every stone edge, the mortar holding them together. I would know that they would fly apart if the seventh daughter of the seventh upon seventh generation would willingly spill her blood for it. I would know that if I slit my own throat at the grand entrance, if I did it in the name of my Lord, that I would bid him entry into a crumbling house, the wards of protection all gone through my sacrifice. Old blood had tied the mortar together, the old magics of the Founders believing in the old ways.

I would wake, shivering in a cold sweat. I could feel the pull of the dreams, the instructions in them. My old lies coming back at me, I knew. I could keep it away in the daytime, I could smile and laugh and play Quidditch and pretend that nothing had happened. I could pretend very well by now, and no one wanted to see. You could hide anything in plain sight if no one knows where to look. No one would look at the bright and laughing Seeker for the tool of their destruction. The failure to die in my first year suddenly was useful. I didn't resurrect Voldemort in his prime, but I was still that very same seventh daughter of the seventh upon seventh generation. Forty-nine generations since the Founders, and Hufflepuff blood still runs through me. I would make such a pretty sacrifice if I let them take me. But over time, that Hufflepuff blood was wedded to Gryffindor, and there's more Gryffindor in me than Hufflepuff. I would never willingly bend over backward to help the enemy.

Which is why when the gates finally fell, I was running from them as fast as I could. I knew there was a battle raging outside. I could hear the shouts and the cries of pain. I had been on my way out, wand in hand, when I heard the cold voice of Lucius Malfoy. "Find the girl, get her ready for the sacrifice."

It hadn't been only dreams. It had been very, very real.

Have you ever touched a candle flame? It burns hot, you feel it and can't quite believe it, you see your skin begin to turn black, and you pull away just before the heat begins to turn into pain. The realization that the dreams were real felt the same way.

I ran, looking over my shoulder, making sure the dark robes were far behind me, making sure they had no idea that I knew where they were. It was cowardice to run and hide, but one teenaged girl against a phalanx of adult wizards would be suicide. I at least cast a silencing charm onto my feet. Heels against stone makes a lot of noise. I ran around a corner, looking over my shoulder, hoping I wouldn't see any more dark robes.

And so I collided with one, of course.

I was knocked backward, but the figure in the dark robes caught me before I fell and started dragging me away from the Great Hall.

I tried pulling away from him, and in doing so I got a good look at him.

_"Malfoy?!"_

He shushed me and pulled even harder. He looked over my shoulder, paler than I had ever seen him, and pulled me along. "Hurry!" he hissed. "This way."

"But what–"

Malfoy dragged me down the hallway and into a hidden corridor I had never seen before. There was a set of stairs at the end, and he quickly led me down it. "Stay quiet!" he hissed when I would have said something. I clamped my mouth shut. If this allowed me to survive the attack, then the teachers would have a chance. As long as Hogwarts didn't fall, the wards could still go back up. But I didn't understand how they had fallen in the first place.

He dragged me into a room at the bottom of the stairs then locked the door. He cast a series of complicated charms on the door while I sat on the floor where he had tossed me. I shook my head to clear it, and rubbed my temple. I had the beginnings of a headache, and I couldn't make sense of what was happening. Draco Malfoy turned to look at me. I couldn't even describe the look on his face. It was some mix of hope and horror. I don't think it quite hit him yet what he had done, and I was expecting the worst.

"At least you showed some sense, Weasel," he said. Not too bad, then.

I blinked at him. "What's going on, Malfoy?"

His jaw tightened slightly. I might not have noticed it if I hadn't been watching him so closely. "How much do you know?" he asked.

"Of what?"

"Then they didn't tell you anything."

"Tell me what?"

He hauled me up by the front of my school robes, and they nearly tore in his grip. I'm shorter than he is, so he had to lift me up to put me at eye level. "Did anyone touch you?" he asked, voice tense. My mouth dropped open in shock. "I know you had boyfriends. I watched you snog them. But did they _touch_ you?"

I don't know why I answered him. It really wasn't any of his business. Then again, I had noticed the silences between the teachers, the odd looks, the unspoken weight of secrets. You don't notice these things unless you have secrets of your own. "No," I whispered, shaking my head. "I wouldn't let them."

"Thank Merlin," he said. Then he kissed me.

I think I moaned, and I know my jaw dropped in surprise. His tongue slid into my mouth, soft and stroking mine. I've been snogged before, but not like this. The other kisses never made me feel anything in my belly, and I had this warm sensation spreading through me. I know I was holding onto him for dear life, afraid I'd fall. One of his hands moved from my front, and I made a noise of protest. But I was still balanced, and he drew out his wand. He broke our kiss long enough to conjure a bed.

Now I was pushing away, heading for the other side of the room. I could hide behind a pillar, I figured. Then I could take out my own wand and be even.

But he had a strong grip on me, and laid me down onto the bed. "Stop struggling," he said, voice sharp. "They know you're still here, they're looking for you. It's only a matter of time before they find us." I know he was worried then, since his face grew pinched and tight. "We'll need to do a bonding spell. If you're bound to me, they'll never find you."

"What are you talking about?" I hated the tremor in my voice. I didn't want him to know I was afraid. I hated it when anyone knew I was afraid.

"They're tracking your blood, Weasley. They'll find you soon enough. The blind corridor won't last forever. They'll convince the castle to give you up."

"Ginny," I said. "If you're gonna snog me, you should use my first name."

His lip curled. "That's a little girl's name."

I tried pushing him off of me. "It's short for Ginevra," I growled, not even sure why I was answering. "Leave me alone, Malfoy."

"Draco," he said silkily. "If I'm gonna snog you, you should use my first name."

I blushed. "Okay, that was silly. But get off me!"

His eyes narrowed. "So they can kill you, Ginevra?"

Merlin, that voice. It was soft and dangerous, caressing and promising more. It reminded me of Tom suddenly, that voice in my head, the ghostly feel of him trying to touch me, skimming his fingers along my thighs and telling me how to touch myself. I shivered.

"They will," he continued, eyes never leaving mine. "It's what they wanted when they attacked. They wanted to use you to destroy Hogwarts, erase the protections here."

"How could they even get past the wards?"

"Me."

I didn't expect him to admit it. Somehow I knew he was at fault. Why else be here dressed in a Hogwarts uniform? He was dressed as a Slytherin, from the badge on his robes to the tie at his neck. "Why?" I whispered.

He leaned back and shrugged out of his outer black robe. He pushed up the sleeve of his shirt, baring his forearm. There was no Dark Mark. "Because I'm not marked. They deliberately didn't let me take it. They let sodding Pansy _Parkinson_ take it, they let her shag her way through the ranks. Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, everyone else but me. But they refused to let me, saying I would take it when I've opened Hogwarts to them, after I've invited them all past the wards."

"Oh Draco," I murmured. Somehow I was so terribly disappointed, though no one had ever thought any better of him at school.

"But it took ages to get me here," he continued. His eyes sparked, anger tightening his jaw. "Crabbe and Goyle? _My_ Crabbe and Goyle? Driven insane and left to die in their own filth outside Glasgow. Nott? Killed and left as an example to our year. Blaise Zabini. I know you know him, he was a prefect. They made him cut off his own left arm rather than take off the hex that your bloody Perfect Potter placed on him. Flint's fucking out of his mind after Granger got to him. And you know what Voldemort said? _Do you know what he said?!"_

I shook my head, suddenly very afraid I knew what had happened. He had once been Tom, after all. And I knew Tom. I knew everything about Tom.

"Acceptable sacrifices. Par for the course, whatever that means. All he could expect from unseasoned boys left to do a man's work!"

I reached up and touched his face then, probably the first sign of comfort he had ever received. He started, then eased into my touch. "And he's a half blood, talking about purity of bloodlines, taking our world back from the Mudbloods. But he kills us, he kills us slowly and he doesn't see it. He's so obsessed with breaking Potter."

"I know." Draco's eyes opened wide with surprised. "I know Tom. I know what he's like. He's not the type to change."

_"Oh bugger me,"_ he breathed. "They said you wouldn't resist because he had only to ask you. That's why. That's why they knew they could make you do it willingly."

"No! That's why I was running," I cried, sitting up. "I won't let them make me kill myself. They'd have to ruin their plans and kill me."

His face softened and he touched mine. "But they would bring you back as his bride, and he would ask it of you as a gift. And he would make you do it." Draco leaned down and touched the top of my forehead with his. "Binding yourself to me is the only way to hide you. You'd never be safe otherwise."

"I don't understand... Why change back to our side?"

"It's not about sides, you silly girl. Voldemort _lied._ He's a lie, making my father bend down to kiss his robes, making my friends kill themselves and maim themselves for a cause that isn't even true. They don't listen, they don't hear what he says between his promises."

"So why do you?"

"I'm not one of them." The ache in his voice was heartbreaking. "It doesn't matter what I think, I'm just another tool to break."

"So you want to break them back?"

"Hogwarts can't fall. Beneath the castle is the Chamber of Secrets."

"Harry killed the basilisk his second year."

Draco paled even further, if that was even possible. "They don't know that."

"Of course not," I snorted. "Who would want to admit a basilisk was even here? I was the one used to try and resurrect Tom to become Voldemort again. I'm the one that was down there. I know that much."

Draco's hand slipped down to touch my chest. I thought he could feel my heart beating through my clothes. "We don't have much time."

"What does this binding spell do?" I asked, my voice steady.

"I found it in the same book on old earth magic my father used to trace Helga Hufflepuff's descendants. It was a way to hide someone's true lineage under another, to bind two souls together, to mask someone. She used it to hide her child from Slytherin when he would have used the baby against her. She hid the child with the Prewetts."

My jaw dropped open. "Mum's side of the family."

"Exactly. Which is why they need you to undo all of Helga's spells on the castle. Only your blood would do it, the girl child. Even if they could make your brothers sacrifice themselves, only another Helga can undo the wards and spells."

"How do you hide me, then? They already know who I am."

"But not where you are. Once they leave here, you could return. But in the meantime, we need to hide you."

"But–"

He kissed me then, long and deep, tongue in my mouth. He was surprisingly gentle, easing me back down to the bed. He kissed my jaw, then worked his way down my neck. "Ginevra," he whispered against my skin. "Trust me."

Surprisingly enough, I did. Had he wanted to kill me, he could have done so a thousand times over. Had he wanted to turn me over, I could never have resisted. One little girl against a phalanx of Death Eaters has a very obvious fate.

He undid the buttons of my blouse slowly, the slight contact of his fingers against my skin making me shiver. He kissed my chest gently as he spread open my blouse. One hand snaked down to touch my thigh. It was like Tom's touch, soft and ghostly, trying to promise more than fear. Draco's voice was like Tom's, his touch like Tom's. I needed to get away from this, I couldn't do this. I knew what this spell had to entail, I'm not stupid. But this isn't how it's supposed to be. Not with someone using me to work out a grudge, not with someone that couldn't stand my family and everything I stood for. I'm supposed to lose my virginity to someone I love, to someone I could trust my heart and soul with as well as my body. It wasn't just sex, it was a physical sign of love and respect, of wanting to share that with someone. I'm not stupid, I know it's not like in the books. But I wanted it to be real. Mum had told me that Dad was her first, and she knew it was special by the care he took with her, by how much he loved her to want it to be perfect.

I'm in a strange room deep inside the castle on a conjured bed with someone that doesn't love me, that normally would think I'm lower than dirt. My chest tightened, and I wanted to cry at the injustice of it. Couldn't I have loved Dean enough? He would have worshiped me with his body, he would have made this special. Michael was a git, but Dean was a dear friend. It didn't work out to be more, but if I had tried harder, maybe it would have been...

"I'm afraid," I found myself saying. Merlin, I could have died of embarrassment.

Draco looked up at me, silver eyes flashing. He took his hand away from my thigh and nodded slightly. He bent his head back down to my chest, taking one of my breasts into his mouth. I could feel the wet heat of his mouth through the thin cotton of my bra, I could feel his other hand tugging down my knickers. I made a choking sound, and tried to push his shoulders away. "Stop, I can't do this, I can't."

He looked up at me, eyes large and luminous in the half light of the room. "It's already started, Ginevra."

He kissed his way down my belly, coming closer when I shrank back into the bed. Merlin I had to be weaker than I thought, not to push back, not to fight his hands holding my hips steady on the bed. I was always such a fighter, I always had a word in edgewise, I always spoke up, didn't I? Didn't I learn that I had to fight it all or I'd be swallowed up whole in the emptiness? I thought I'd learnt to do more than disappear into nowhere.

His mouth descended to the apex of my thighs. My skirt had followed my knickers, and I whimpered at the contact. This was wrong, I kept thinking. It wasn't supposed to be this way, it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

And then I wasn't thinking. Merlin, his tongue was on me, where only my own fingers have ever been, and even then I've felt vaguely guilty, like I shouldn't be touching myself. Good girls didn't touch themselves. Good girls didn't like it. Good girls stayed at home until they were asked out by good boys their parents liked, got married and had lots of babies of their own. Good girls didn't want more out of life.

I think I was crying. Draco rose up, brushed the tears away. Then I really cried, great heaving and wracking sobs, my entire body shaking. He cradled me gently, let me cry on his shoulder. Everything was so wrong, so broken. He held me close, his hand at the back of my head as he rocked me gently. He eased off the blouse and the bra, then met my miserable eyes. "I promise I won't hurt you," he murmured. "That's not my intention."

"I'm afraid," I said, voice trembling. "That's why no one's ever touched me like that. I'm afraid of it. The diary... He tried to... He..."

I'd never told anyone after St. Mungo's. I don't know why I said it now.

He touched my face gently, then kissed me. He eased me back down to the bed. "Relax," he whispered against my ear. He licked it, and I could feel him moving above me. "I'll take care of you, Ginevra. I won't be cruel."

Then his mouth was on my bare breast, and his fingers skimmed down my belly. I could feel the bare skin of his chest against mine. I didn't know when he had taken off the tie and shirt, but he still had his trousers on. He touched me _there,_ gently, tracing me with his fingertips. I could hear myself moan at the contact, shiver into his touch. Oh, this was wicked, I know. Good girls don't do that.

And I didn't want to be a good girl anymore. Look at where it got me anyway.

I parted my legs for him. I ignored the voice crawling at the back of my mind, Tom's voice calling me a slut. Draco traced my nipple with his tongue, traced my folds with his fingertip before dipping down inside me. He moved slowly, slowly, and I let out a groan. Oh, but that felt good. Nothing to be afraid of, there. I had one arm around Draco, stroking his back, feeling him there, and the other held a fistful of sheet. I was too afraid to really touch him, to see what he felt like, if his skin was as soft as mine, if he had any curves at all or if he was just angles. That would make it too real.

Then his finger moved up, wet with my moisture. He dragged it over my clit, and I let out a shuddering sigh. "Oh Merlin," I moaned.

His mouth moved down, down my belly, tongue tasting my skin. Then his mouth was on me, a finger working its way deep inside me. His tongue was on my clit, slow and steady, knowing just where to lick. My back arched and my hips bucked against his mouth. I was making incoherent moans, pulling the sheet up by the fistful. Oh gods, his mouth. I get wet just thinking about it now, his mouth on me, his fingers in me, stroking me. It was so very wrong but so very good at the same time. He sucked me hard, teeth gently scraping my skin. I came harder than I ever had before in my life.

"Oh," I murmured. I couldn't think. "Oh."

Draco was smirking, the bastard. He picked me up gently, hands holding me steady against his bare chest. "Doing okay?"

"Oh. Oh yes. Oh, I've never..."

The smirk widened. Dammit, I hadn't meant to say that. But I wasn't thinking straight, and I felt all wobbly and weak. I've never felt anything that made my knees weak and my body refuse to move before. Draco knew what I meant, and his smirk was more of a wolfish grin. "In that case, you're welcome."

"Are we... bonded?" I asked stupidly. Other than the limp feeling, I didn't feel any different from normal. Maybe a little stupid. Definitely a little stupid. But that was the _best_ I'd had in my entire short life, so I let it go.

Draco carried me over to the pillar on the other side of the bed. I never realized he was this strong. I didn't think he was capable of it. "This might be easier for you. I heard that if the girl's on top, it hurts less. But I don't think you could move right now."

I shook my head. "You have to..." I swallowed. "I need to give you my virginity, don't I?" I squeaked. Oh Merlin. I know I felt a little stupid then, but did I have to _sound_ it, too?

Draco nodded, and propped my arms up over my head. "You'll be all right. You don't have to be afraid of me."

But what if I am? What if I'm more afraid of what's happening between us than I am of you? What if I'm afraid of that feeling in my chest, that thing that feels like heartbreak, the thing that's telling me you should love me first? "I trust you," I murmured. "But..."

"But what?" he asked, pausing as he tied my hands to the pillar with his tie. I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. I looked at the fabric of his trousers, the front of them tented from his erection, moist where my juices had wet them. "Ginevra?"

"Aren't you supposed to love me, even a little?" I asked in a tiny voice.

He finished tying the knots tight and then placed his right hand over my breast, over my heart. He began to chant something in a lilting accent. His voice was soothing, washing over me, softening the sharp fear in my belly, rounding out the pointy pain in my chest. I didn't understand a word of it, but it calmed me, and I knew it was the actual bonding spell. It would be complete when he took me, when he spilled his seed into me. Only then would I truly be protected, hidden under his lineage, bound to him.

When he finished, he tilted my chin up to meet his eyes. "That's the spell, Ginevra."

"I don't do anything?" I asked stupidly. My mouth dropped open. "That's not fair, I should do something too!"

"Could you repeat that after me?"

"No. I don't even know what you said."

"Then you can't say a spell." He smiled at me, laughing with his eyes. I didn't think he even knew how to do that, I used to think he could only laugh with cruelty.

"That's not fair. We should rewrite the spell."

He touched my cheek as he laughed openly. "Rewrite an ancient spell? Just so you can participate? How very Gryffindor of you."

I knew he wasn't laughing at me, and I laughed at the silliness of it. "But if I want to help? If I want to be part of it?"

"You will be, Ginevra," he said, his voice a caress. "You will be."

He kissed me, and he began unfastening his trousers. I had to loosen my legs around his waist so he could take them down. I soon felt his hands at my hips, the thick feel of him prodding me gently. Draco broke the kiss and looked me in the eye. "You have to want this, Ginevra. I can't give you my protection if you don't want this."

"I want this," I said. My voice was soft but sure. "I want you inside me. I want your protection. I want you to help me. And I want to help you, too, if I can."

He looked startled at the last part, then pushed up into me. I pulled against the tie at my wrists, yelping in pain. I could feel the spell over my heart tighten, beginning to take hold. "It hurts," I whimpered. "I didn't think it would still hurt."

Draco kissed my eyes shut and stroked my back gently. He waited a long moment, until the pain had receded and I was loose against him again. "Ready? That's the worst of it."

"I think so," I whispered.

His mouth closed over mine and then he began to move with sure strokes. He was hitting some spot deep inside of me that made me gasp. That part didn't hurt. That part didn't hurt at all, and I was surprised. His tongue moved inside my mouth, tasting me, exploring my mouth. His hands were all over, touching me, pulling me closer, making sure I kept my balance as he thrust into me, harder and harder. I could feel him twitch against me, could feel the spell around my heart tighten even further.

He came with a hoarse cry, and the spell around my heart tightened until it shattered.

Draco sagged against me, pressing me into the pillar. After a moment, he pulled the tie loose and let me fall against him, my hair cascading down his back. "Oh," he murmured, much like I had not long before. "Oh. That's what's different."

"What's different?"

"When it's not with someone you can't stand," he murmured, holding me close. His voice drifted over me. "When it's with someone you could actually care about."

"Oh. I've never before.... I think I almost know what all the fuss is about."

He pulled back to smile at me then. "Oh really?"

"Really." I smiled back at him, meaning it suddenly. I didn't feel like there was some gaping hole in my chest anymore, some vague emptiness as if I didn't belong. Now I did. It might have been a spell at its source, but now I belonged somewhere. It was a wonderful feeling.

Draco carried me over to the bed. We plopped down ungraciously, a tangle of limbs and hair and laughter. I don't think he's ever laughed like this before in his life. "Now you're safe from them," he said, his hand on my breast. "Now you're safe."

"Now what?"

"Now we wait. Your precious Potter will drive them back. They'll have to leave soon enough. They can't find you now."

"What about you?"

His jaw tightened slightly, then relaxed. "They'll have to think I'm dead."

"You lose everything then. You won't have a family anymore," I murmured. As much as they didn't always understand me, I couldn't imagine life without them. They were loud and rambunctious, they were full of noise and mischief and life. I don't think I could handle silence in its wake, knowing that I was all alone in my choices.

"I have you now," he said, eyes drifting shut. His voice was sleepy, but still soft and silken, still hypnotic. "They can't do anything else to me now."

I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he had fallen asleep. Soon enough, I did too.

When I woke up, he was dressed again, and was struggling with putting my clothes back on me. He'd spelled them into finer version of my old clothes. My robe wasn't as old and thin, the blouse and knickers were silk. "Draco?" I murmured sleepily. "What?"

"I scouted the stairwell. I think they're gone. I didn't hear anything, and my locator spells came up empty. But I think we should get out of here, just in case."

"Why?"

"In case they decide to search for you by name and not by blood."

"But you said..."

"I want to be careful," he said, not meeting my eyes.

The thing in my chest was choking me. I knew what secrets looked like. I could taste them on the air still unuttered; I'm a master at hiding them and seeing them where they don't belong. "What aren't you telling me?"

With a sigh, Draco looked up and met my eyes. "I don't know if Dumbledore survived. I don't know if it's safe to hide here."

"Then where?" I asked, not letting my panic show.

"The forest, maybe. They won't go there. Too many nasty creatures they can't control."

"And us?"

"We'll be fine." He smiled. "You'll help me, remember?"

"Fine. We'll need a few things from the dorms. Is it safe enough to get them?"

"I think so. No one knows where we are."

He spelled us unnoticeable, a useful trick I filed away for later. It must have been how the twins always snuck up on me when I was little and playing with dolls. We went up into Gryffindor Tower, the Fat Lady already ripped off the hinges. Someone had tried looking for me already. If Draco hadn't gotten to me first...

Draco felt me shiver in his arms, and he silently prodded me past the wreckage of the common room. I didn't look into the other dorms, I didn't want to see the damage. I didn't want to see if there were dead bodies.

I was the only girl left in the seventh year dorms. We collected sheets and blankets, pillows, some clothes. I took some photos with me, things Colin had taken in the past two or three years, and the family portrait I keep. I tucked this notebook and some self-inking quills into my bundle of clothes. The quills had been too expensive, a gift from the older girls when they left school last year. I was the only sixth year they had ever liked. I couldn't blame them. The others were silly and weak, and had taken the first opportunity to leave Hogwarts.

We stopped by the kitchens, and Draco was surprised when I tickled the pear that allowed you to get past. I'm not the Weasley Twins' little sister for nothing. I know a lot of tricks they didn't know I knew. Too many people had overlooked me throughout the years. They only saw what they needed to see. It comes from being the youngest of seven, the only girl in a family of boys, the one that had been possessed by an evil spirit.

I showed Draco the secret passages of the castle, and we snuck out through the one that took us past the lake. No one had come in from that way. The squid would have gotten them, and the Death Eaters were vicious, not stupid. We had a clean escape into the forest, and had found an area we could hide out in. Draco hadn't said anything in a very long time.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm in the middle of nowhere. Of course I'm all right," he said sarcastically.

I blinked in surprise, then looked down into my lap. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, shocked.

"If not for me, you'd have what you wanted."

He pushed me down onto my back. "You've got it backward, Ginevra. If they gave me what I wanted, there wouldn't be a you. If they had listened, this wouldn't have happened. If they had known... if they had let me..."

And I understood. He had been popular and perfect, a favored son of Slytherin. But once he graduated, he didn't get his expected reward. He didn't get his future handed to him on a silver platter as he had expected. He had been overlooked, he had been shoved aside. The plans made for him hadn't been the ones he would have made for himself.

I kissed him, drew him down into my embrace. "I know, Draco," I murmured. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything."

"But it doesn't have anything to do with you," he protested, voice breaking.

I shushed him. I wanted to hear his voice again, soft and silky against my skin, not shattering in pain. "I know what it's like not to be noticed. When people look through you, when they can't see your heart in your eyes, when they don't know how to listen... I know, Draco. I know what it's like. I've always known. And I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I'm sorry you're so disappointed. I'm sorry your choices weren't good enough."

"You should hate me," he said softly against my ear.

"But I can't," I murmured.

"Silly girl," he whispered.

He made love to me on the blanket beneath the trees. He had his mouth between my legs and a hand over my belly, keeping me still. Then he had his fingers inside me as his mouth moved up to meet his other hand at my belly. He tasted my skin, his tongue soft and wet, warm and gentle, gliding across my skin. Then he was inside me, I could feel my body warm and wet around his length. My arms were around him, holding him tight against me. I rolled him over, onto his back, his cock still inside me. I rode him hard, his hands on my breasts, squeezing and rolling them in his fingers. Our eyes locked, and we knew. This wasn't silly, this wasn't something of revenge and disappointment and aching. This thing between us might have been solidified with the bonding spell, but it might have happened anyway. If he had known where to look, if I had known what to see...

He had been disappointed in the world he had seen, in the choices he had made. He tried to change them, he tried to fix it. I think that draws me in just as much as his voice.

Draco's voice replaced Tom's. I don't hear Tom's voice in the back of my head anymore, I don't hear him telling me how stupid and homely and worthless I am. I don't have him pushing me on, trying to prove him wrong. But now I have Draco's eyes and Draco's voice, his touch and his heart. I _did_ do something to that binding spell, I did turn it around somehow. Or maybe it was always meant to make us share a heart. Maybe it was always meant to tie us together, heart and soul, body and mind.

He's sleeping next to me now as I write. Night has fallen on the Forbidden Forest, and we've made a tent out of the blankets. Covered with dirt and debris, we won't be found for quite a while. We don't know who won the battle in the grand entranceway, but that's just fine for now. We're safe where we are, and we'll come out of hiding when we're ready.

I can think of lots of things to do in the meantime.

***  
The End.


End file.
